Summary: The date listed is the date the 'snapshot' was
written/posted. Each piece is a segment within the same
universe, but they are not in any sort of order. Each piece
stands alone (iow-there are no "cliffhangers"). The snapshots
will run the gamut from G to NC17. Some may be several pages
long, some only a couple of paragraphs; some will contain smut,
many will not; they will be different styles with different
voices.
Disclaimers: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm.
February 01, 2000
He slid under covers already warmed by his lover's body. Naked
flesh met his own, Obi-Wan waking and moving into his arms;
hot, soft and hard, pliant and adamantine.
"Go back to sleep," Qui-Gon suggested softly as a leg tangled
into his own.
"No. Want you. Want this." Obi-Wan's voice was thick with
dreams but the hard shaft pressing against Qui-Gon's thigh lent
credence to the words. Qui-Gon flipped Obi-Wan onto his back,
shifting to lie on top of him, pressing down.
Spreading Obi-Wan's legs with his own, Qui-Gon slid his hips
into the cradle of his lover's body, aligning their erections.
Obi-Wan moaned as Qui-Gon began an easy rhythm, slick skin
sliding along slick skin, sparks of sensation dancing between
them.
Qui-Gon leaned down and took Obi-Wan's mouth with his own,
filling the empty places with his tongue -tasting, taking,
giving. He could feel Obi-Wan's muscles tense as his slid
against them, Obi-Wan arching upward as much as he could, their
bodies pressing close and then closer.
Hands came up to card through his hair, to hold his head in
place as his retreating tongue was followed and his own mouth
invaded by the heat and taste of Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon moved faster,
following the demanding pace Obi-Wan's tongue asked of him, his
hips echoing the thrust and retreat of that small invader.
Obi-Wan's taste was plunged repeatedly into his mouth and as
Qui-Gon pulled in desperate breaths through his nose it was the
smell of Obi-Wan that filled him. The young body beneath his
own was hot and slick with sweat and the only sound aside from
their harsh breathing was glide of their flesh and of Obi-Wan
as his body moved over the sheets, skin scrapping against
cotton. Qui-Gon opened eyes he couldn't remember closing and
gazed at his lover's face. Still kissing, all he could see was
the top of one cheekbone and an eye, lid closed, lashes a dark
forest against skin bruised with fatigue.
Qui-Gon catalogued it all as his body moved inexorably toward
orgasm. A part of his mind took each facet of Obi-Wan at this
moment and wove it in with his other memories of his lover.
Then he was opening himself up to Obi-Wan, his mind and body
overtaken, disappearing as he was thrown into the bright light
of their joining.
When his mind was once more his own, Qui-Gon was again on his
side, holding his lover, legs tangled together, as Obi-Wan
slept.
End.
February 02, 2000
He is tired. Bone-weary. Even meditation eludes him as his
exhausted mind refuses to be cleared. He sees a rock.
Focussing, he lets the rockness of it sift into him, starting
at his belly and radiating outward. He becomes heavy, ponderous
- solid. A rock.
End.
February 03, 2000
Qui-Gon strode toward the quarters he and Obi-Wan had been
given. Now that the treaty had been signed and the last of the
formalities taken care of, he could relax. Already he could
feel the tension begin to leak away from him. He could hardly
wait to go to bed.
Entering, he made a quick detour to Obi-Wan's bed chamber. He
had sent his apprentice to bed several hours earlier when it
became clear that there was nothing left to be debated -only
egos to be soothed. A quick glance had him frowning and going
into the room. Obi-Wan was not in his bed. But the door to the
north gardens was slightly ajar and Qui-Gon slipped through,
eyes immediately seeking out and finding his apprentice.
Obi-Wan had removed his robe and now sat on his haunches at the
edge of a well-worn path. The moonlight shone down brightly,
turning Obi-Wan, in his plain Jedi apprentice whites, into a
shimmering figure. Qui-Gon strode toward him, crouching as he
gently shook his apprentice's shoulder.
"Time for bed, Padawan," he said when the shake failed to rouse
Obi-Wan from his meditation. Obi-Wan murmured something in
reply though Qui-Gon couldn't quite make it out. "What was
that?" he asked as he pulled his unresisting padawan to his
feet.
"Be the rock." Obi-Wan said it so quietly that Qui-Gon couldn't
be sure he'd actually heard it. But as the words sank in, he
could hardly contain his mirth. Especially when he lifted his
padawan and carried him to his bedchamber. Be the rock indeed,
thought Qui-Gon mildly to himself as he noted that Obi-Wan had
certainly succeeded in gaining the dead weight of a rock. He
dumped his burden on the bed and settled Obi-Wan into a deep
sleep with a slight nudge of the Force.
End.
February 04, 2000
Watch him, I do, as he builds his lightsaber. Hrrmm. Face
serious with a line between his brows, he concentrates. Follows
steps I gave. Work the first try, it will. Sure I am.
Strong with the Force is this one. Gladly would I be his
master. That pleasure I do not foresee. Meant for another, it
is. Hmmm. Friendship. That we will have between us. Already he
is not afraid of me as other initiates are.
Finished aligning crystals he has. Looks at me he does.
"Is this right, Master Yoda?"
"What says the Force, hmmm?" Nods he does. Encases the
mechanics, picks lightsaber up, ignites it; right I was. Happy
he looks. Solemn face is gone. Blue glow of lightsaber and
Force together colour the room.
"Thank you, Master Yoda!"
"Your work it is."
"Yes, Master. Thank you just the same."
"Hrmpf. Tea I will make -have some you will."
Yes. Great friends we will be. Lots of tea will I serve him.
Hrrrm. One day he will not make face, when give him tea I do.
End.
February 05, 2000
I like to watch him bathe.
When time and circumstance permit, I will quietly slip into the
'fresher and sit on the small bench across from the big tub.
The design of the shower head makes any sort of curtain
unnecessary, so my view of him is unimpeded by little more than
steam. The room is warm, bright and comfortable and if he
becomes aware of my watching he lingers; sometimes putting on a
show for me -arching his back and masturbating, or preparing
himself to be taken- and sometimes he merely stands there
beneath the falling water -he enjoying the liquid caress of
water, knowing that I am enjoying the spectacle of his
pleasure.
Today he stands under the spray, letting it hit him full in the
face and slowly turning, rolling his limbs and stretching his
muscles as the water strikes his skin. He bends forward to
stretch his legs and let the tight muscles feel the soothing
kiss of the heated water. I have worked him hard on the
training mat, pushing his endurance and skills to their limits;
I know he is sore. I would offer to join him and massage the
abused muscles, but I fear my own control is not what it should
be in regard to him and we would wind up indulging in
activities that would not help rid him of his aches.
In his tiredness he has not noticed my presence and so I slip
from the room before he has finished. Gathering a variety of
fruit and some clear water, I put them on a tray and head into
the bedroom to wait for him to join me, all sleepy and clean
from his shower.
End.
February 06, 2000
Qui-Gon is a beautiful man.
I like nothing better than to sit on the bench in the 'fresher
and watch him shower. There I am afforded a view from all
angles of my lover, naked.
Water beats against his chest, across the flat planes of his
belly. Drops bead into translucent pearls and flow down his
back, over bone and muscle covered by soft, warm skin. I watch
as a drop forms on his shoulder and speeds into the indentation
of his spine, running into the crevice between his cheeks. It
is a path I have traced more than once with my tongue.
He shifts, turning to face me as he begins to soap his wet
skin. With his hair wet and slicked back from his face I can
easily see its contours, its imperfections -those things that
make him lovely to my eyes. The lines in his forehead have
become more pronounced over the time I have known him, the
crows feet at his eyes more numerous. The bump in his nose,
broken I know not when for he will not tell me, seems so
perfect an accent to his features that I cannot imagine him
without it. I do not know what sins his beard hides for he has
worn it for as long as I have known him -a timeframe that spans
a large portion of my life but only a small one of his own. I
am but a sapling to his mighty oak and yet our roots have grown
twined together.
His hands are large and I know them to be both firm and gentle.
I watch as they run over his chest and down his sides,
spreading the soap along his skin. He skims his hips and bends
to clean his feet and long legs. My leggings have become
uncomfortable as I have watched him touch himself and I undo
the fastenings, taking my growing erection in my hand.
I lean back, letting my legs fall apart as I slide my hand up
and down my phallus. Qui-Gon's hands move back up his legs and
he cleans his genitals. He reaches behind his testicles,
cleaning the flesh there before gently rolling his balls. He
forms a cylinder of first one hand and then the other, pulling
each along his penis once. He pulls gently on the foreskin,
cleaning the sensitive skin beneath it. My hand speeds its
journey -I have tasted that spot he is touching now, felt its
heat beneath my tongue. My breath hitches.
I hear a small chuckle and look up to find him watching me. I
don't stop. I am close and it feels good and he is naked and
beautiful in front of me. He watches my hips and hand moving
and I come for him, spilling my essence over my hand and onto
my clothes.
He looks up, into my eyes, and I am suddenly breathless. All
the love I would ever need, could ever dream of, lives in those
eyes.
He grows more beautiful with each moment that passes.
End.
February 07, 2000
"I want to watch you." He whispers it. Breathes it softly
against my ear, his body warmly wrapped along my side. Not shy
of my body or its functions, I am nonetheless a modest man, but
who am I to deny him anything?
"Please, Qui-Gon. I want to watch you, knowing you are thinking
of me; knowing you are feeling my breath against you face and
imagining it against your erection." I gasp and take my phallus
in my hand. It has begun to fill from his words and a few
strokes brings it to hardness. I start lazily, wanting to go
slowly, to draw this out for him, but the gentle huff of his
breath against my cheek keeps his words at the front of my mind
and my hand speeds. My other hand moves across the tip of my
erection, spreading the leaking fluid. He catches my wrist and
brings my hand up to his mouth, sucking the liquid from my
fingertip, his tongue stroking over the pad and sending
delighted shivers down my spine to twine with the pleasure of
my stroking.
"Come for me." I can deny him nothing and with his name on my
lips, I thrust my hips, pushing my phallus through the tunnel
of my hand once more, holding myself arched as my climax rushes
through my body, my semen spraying from my hardness. I lie,
panting, in his arms and he kisses my shoulder, my cheek, my
ear.
"I want to clean you." I nod and he shifts, but not off the bed
as I am expecting. He moves downward, tongue and lips warm as
they travel down my body until they reach my groin. Gentle
licks torture my sensitive skin, sending shivers through me as
he washes the ejaculate from my body. Finished, he slides back
up until we are face to face.
"See how wonderful you taste." His mouth takes mine and I open
willingly to the hot push of his tongue. I taste my lover, his
sweet flavour mingled with the sharp bite of my own come.
"Thank you." His voice is gentle, warm, and he settles again
against my side, arms sliding around me, one leg thrown
possessively over my own. I let myself drift to sleep, safe
within his arms.
End.
February 09, 2000
"Okay, children, I'd like you to close your eyes and begin."
"Master Y'na?"
"Meditation is a task best completed while silent, Obi-Wan."
"But I have a question."
"Very well."
"Why do we have to sit like this?"
"You don't have to sit on your haunches, but most humanoids
find this a comfortable position in which to remain for a long
period of time. The important thing is to stay still. If you'd
rather assume another position, you may."
"No, this is okay, Master Y'na."
"Good."
"Master?"
"Was there anything else, Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, Master."
"Go ahead."
"Why do we have to close our eyes?"
"Because doing so allows us to focus on what is within rather
than what is without."
"Oh."
"Is something the matter?"
"I'm sorry, Master Y'na, I must be doing something wrong."
"What makes you say that?"
"Ever since you explained it to us I've been trying, but no
matter how hard I try I can't see my insides!"
End.
February 10, 2000
Obi-Wan had his eyes closed. They were in the Initiates Garden
and were supposed to be meditating. But Obi-Wan was distracted
by the feeling of the sun on his face and the way the Force
moved around him. It came from the plants and the other
children, from Master Til-Nok and Master Yoda. It made him
happy.
"Hmmm," came a soft rumble, "happy is good."
Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Master Yoda was right in front of him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the old Master.
"Why?"
"I'm supposed to be meditating."
"Many ways to meditate, there are. Feel you the Force?"
"Yes, Master. It is very strong here."
"Feels good, hrmmm?"
"Yes, Master, it does."
"Then meditating you are."
Obi-Wan wasn't sure he understood what Master Yoda was telling
him. Master Y'na used to say him he had to be still and look
inside to meditate. Master Til-Nok said pretty much the same
thing only Obi-Wan was older now and so Master Til-Nok used
bigger words than Master Y'na had.
"The important thing is to feel the Force?"
The little Jedi Master blinked slowly and smiled.
"Hrmph. Smarter they are making initiates," Master Yoda
grumbled, twitching his ears. The old master touched Obi-Wan's
knee gently with his three fingered hand and Obi-Wan closed his
eyes again. The Force was there, waiting for him.
End.
February 12, 2000
I settle into position to meditate, watching as my new padawan
kneels next to me, his pose reflecting my own. His eyes close
and a small half smile forms on his lips. I watch as his
breathing becomes even and slow, his head lifting back to
capture the gentle rays of the morning sun.
I close my own eyes and sink into the Force. Its familiar
presence covers me like an old friend. The energy of every
living thing whispers against my consciousness. The ground
beneath me rises to meet the air around me while the sky above
bends to kiss them and me as well. There, among the ebb and
flow of the rest of it, is the bright energy of Obi-Wan. The
Force sings between us as I feel, for the first time in this
state of communion with myself and the Force, the gentle touch
of it between us.
I can feel the wonder in my padawan as he reaches out to me
through the Force. I reach back to him, enfolding him within
myself as we glide along the currents of the Force.
End.
February 13, 2000
Obi-Wan was kneeling in the Initiates Garden, face raised to
catch the sun's rays as he meditated. The Force here was
beautiful; clean and fresh and open wide with light. It
exploded with colour from the plants. It laughed in delight
around his skin, bright energy coming from the group of
initiates kneeling by the Iryz flowers, learning to meditate as
he himself had been taught. The familiar presence of his master
whispered through it all.
Meditation was a tool the Jedi used. One Obi-Wan had grown to
rely on to keep himself calm, centred. He released his worries
and fears into the Force; let the horror of lost worlds and
broken people be taken from him to be replaced by the joy in
life the Force taught him. His master had helped him lean how
to use meditation during and after a mission, how to let the
Force guide his choices.
But it was moments like these that Obi-Wan cherished. When he
could close his eyes and sink into the embrace of the Force and
just be. He smiled. A strong current of energy wrapped around
him and a soft exhalation breathed into his face.
Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan looked into Master Yoda's eyes.
"Still happy, Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, Master."
The wizened three fingered hand came up to touch his cheek and
Obi-Wan closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the powerful
caress of the Force that came with the old master's touch.
"Come for tea later, you will."
"Yes, Master Yoda."
Obi-Wan watched as Master Yoda continued down the path towards
the children. He glanced to his right, the small smile playing
around his master's lips confirming that Qui-Gon had heard his
exchange with Master Yoda. Obi-Wan closed his eyes again and
let his own happiness and contentment colour the Force around
them.
End.
February 14, 2000
I have meditated for most of my life. First taught as a young
child in the temple -that communion with the Force has been the
one constant in my life, even more so than my master.
My master. From our tentative beginnings the Force has always
hummed between us; singing to us it's song of light and binding
us together. But now, within the Force, I cannot tell where I
end and he begins. It is not that he is an extension of me or I
of him, but that we are merged; one entity within the Force,
though still two without it.
He is coming now to join me in my meditation, sitting next to
me. I can see him in my mind's eye, long legs folding beneath
his body, arms relaxed, hands, palms up and open, on his
thighs. He is beautiful.
In the Force I can see him as well as I can see myself, for it
is the same thing. He is mine, I am his, but we both belong to
the Force.
End.
February 16, 2000
Obi-Wan's hands shook as he softly brushed his master's hair
from his face. He looked around furtively, holding his breath
while he strained to listen for any sound that might indicate
someone was coming toward them.
His master's moan seemed loud in the shadowy half-light that
made it through the trees and Obi-Wan shushed him, smoothing
the back of his hand along Qui-Gon's beard, over and over.
Qui-Gon moaned again and Obi-Wan pressed his forehead against
his master's.
"Sh. Master you have to stay quiet," he begged, trembling hands
ghosting once more over the lax limbs flowing from his lap. He
bit back the urge to cry.
"There is no fear. There is no pain. There is no death."
Rocking slowly with his master's head in his lap, he continued
to repeat the litany aloud, drowning out the very un-Jedi-like
voice inside that begged the Force not to take his master from
him.
End.
February 17, 2000
He stands naked at the pinnacle of the cliff, like Tiranui made
flesh. And like our god, he has no fear, for he throws himself
from the edge, soaring like the great ealla bird.
He turns himself into an arrow and shoots rapidly towards the
crystal pool below. His entry leaves but the tiniest ripple in
the water and soon even that is gone. Nothing remains of his
passing through air or water.
I hold my breath until I no longer can and then do it again;
still he does not surface. Have I imagined the whole thing? Or
has Tiranui in fact given me a sign -sanctioned my decision to
bring the Jedi to us?
The sun glints off the water, turning the warm rays into a
prism, colouring the black and white of my world. The calm
surface of the lake is disturbed by an outward explosion of
water as the boy shoots from the water. Laughter ripples the
air around me, filling me with the heady certainty that peace
is within our grasp.
End.
February 18, 2000
Obi-Wan looked dubiously at his plate. He couldn't be sure, but
he thought he'd seen something move.
"Now I'm beginning to understand why my master can't cook."
"Cook, Qui-Gon can. Best campfire weenies, he makes."
"At least that would be an improvement over whatever is
swimming in my purple gloop." Out of the corner of his eye he
could see the little master's ears flatten back against his
head.
"Delicacy it is. Very rare."
"I wonder why."
"Sarcasm leads to-"
"I know, I know -the dark side -but I'm not sure your delicacy
isn't going to take me there anyway." Obi-Wan smothered his
grin, wondering how far Master Yoda was going to let him go. He
wasn't a child any longer, though to the old Jedi even Master
Qui-Gon was still quite young.
"Eat it you shall."
"I plan to, Master Yoda, I just wish I didn't know that the
expression 'stop playing with your food' could be taken so
literally." The large, round eyes widened and Obi-Wan waited
for the slap across his wrists, hoping it would be figurative,
but braced for the familiar thump to his shins or elbow.
"Eat you should. Or send you back to Qui-Gon and his new pet, I
will."
"Yes, Master," said Obi-Wan obediently as he began to eat.
Better the beast in his soup than the one back in his master's
quarters.
End.
February 19, 2000
I look at my lover, my Obi-Wan, and have to stop myself from
sounding like a romantic old fool. He *is* beautiful.
There are no sunsets to colour his fair skin. No sunrises to
compare his beauty to. He isn't pale and alabaster against dark
sheets in our bed. He isn't naked and sweating, performing
feats of great agility and grace. Moonlight doesn't paint his
body with quicksilver shadows and raindrops don't glide along
his silken skin.
He sits. On a flat grey bench. On a battered starship. There
isn't even a portal to throw flashing silver starlight upon
him. He is reading, his finger taping against the datapad in
that annoying way of his. I have tried for a long time to break
him of that habit. I hope I never do.
End.
February 20, 2000
I don't do this very often -I wait until the need becomes too
strong to control, to direct into other things. I've felt it
building all week, my training bouts becoming faster, more
aggressive as I channel the sexual energy into them. So now
everything sings around me, my body more sensitive to the
currents around me, colours brighter, noises louder, the sound
of my Master's voice enough to make me hard and ache. This is
how I know I can no longer wait.
I wait until a time when I am alone and my work is done. The
evening stretches out in front of me -nowhere to be, no one to
interrupt me.
I eat my solitary dinner, opening my senses and savouring every
bite as I chew methodically. I clear the table and wash the
dishes before moving to put everything to rights in the common
room, brushing at minuscule crumbs and plumping pillows.
Heading for the 'fresher, I remove my clothing, placing it
carefully in the laundry bin. I wash myself quickly, lathering
the soap and scrubbing thoroughly. The water sluices away the
foam, leaving clean skin in it's wake. I close my eyes and
stand beneath the water, playing occasionally with the taps,
increasing the heat of it.
I let the drops beat at my skin for quite awhile, slowly
increasing the heat until I can feel my skin begin to scream.
Quickly turning off the hot water I do scream as the sudden
cold hits my heated flesh. I stand under the cold for just a
moment and then turn the water off entirely. I dry myself
carefully -my skin so sensitive from the opposing sensations
that even the soft cotton of the worn towel feels abrasive
against me.
Leaving the towel behindkissing
me, holding me, stroking me, urging me to come for him, to come
on him, to come in him, under him, against him and my hips lift
from the bed, my erection sliding through the tunnel of my
hand. I hear him whisper in my mind "come, Obi-Wan" and my
orgasm tears through me, making me shudder and convulse with
the absolute pleasure of it. My ejaculate coats my hand and my
chest. I run my fingers through it and touch them to my lips,
imagining it is he who tastes the salty tang of my come.
He is back now, I can hear him in the common room, and so I
pull myself together, cleaning the mess on my skin and getting
dressed in a soft, worn uniform. I find my centre and go out to
greet him, to spend the evening with him, making memories.
End.
February 21, 2000
"Happy Birthday Jedi Obi!" The children shout and run to
surround him, pulling him into the room. The walls are
decorated with paintings -portraits of the young man done by
the children. His master enters the room more slowly, an
indulgent smile on the usually dispassionate face.
The children link hands and run in a circle around the young
Jedi, singing the Lisai song of birth celebration. It is good
to once more hear their laugher and singing in this great hall.
The tides of hatred and fear have ruled for far too long.
This is why we have asked the Jedi here and already they have
brought this moment of happiness with them.
"Time for gifts!" yells Daini, the littlest one -at least she
had waited a few moments. The others quickly pick up the cry
and they all scatter to find the gifts they have brought.
A few moments later and the last of the stragglers have joined
the loose half moon of children gathered around the young man.
One after another, they present him with their gift. Each child
gives him a rock they have spent the morning combing the
courtyard for. He accepts each one with grace and pleasure, as
if there were nothing he had wanted more.
A bemused glance at his master over the top of the children's
heads confirms my suspicions; the rocks had been suggested so
that each child could give a gift they believed to precious.
"I told them about the Jedi tradition of rock-gifting for one's
birth celebration," Master Jinn says quietly. The young man
laughs, the sound a sweet baritone among the high bell tones of
the children's shouts.
"Thank you, Master."
End.
February 23, 2000
They joined the transport at D'rusni. Silent, wrapped in large,
brown robes. Their cloaks carried with them the scents of the
world we were leaving behind.
Decomposing leaves and wet, muddy soil. A hint of the
three-petaled tunla flower almost masking the smell of blood.
They sat cautiously, choosing a spot near a corner, their robes
falling apart. Their costumes were revealed; light coloured
tunics and leggings, dark with earth, wet with sweat, or
perhaps tears.
Side by side they sat, backs straight, arms folded into their
voluminous sleeves.
End.
February 24, 2000
Obi-Wan stepped onto the balcony to join his master. Pulling
the door shut behind him, the light and noise of the party
disappeared, leaving them wrapped in the starlit darkness.
"Quite the party," said Obi-Wan as he joined his master at the
rail, resting his hip against the cold stone. Qui-Gon turned to
face him, a soft half-laugh huffing from him.
"You have glitter in your hair." Qui-Gon told him. "And in
you're braid." His master ran a finger along the thin rope of
hair, dislodging some of the confetti. They both watched the
tiny bits of bright paper drifted to the ground, glinting as
the far light of the stars caught it.
When Obi-Wan raised his head and met his master's eyes, they
had darkened, passion painting their depths.
"And your beard is shot with silver and gold," Obi-Wan said,
his voice soft and thick. He cupped his master's cheek in his
hand and Qui-Gon's head inclined, lowering.
The vivid laughter and loud music of the party broke out behind
them -a man's baritone and three gentle sopranos trilling in
the quiet night air.
The Jedi stepped apart, nodding their heads at the other guests
as they wavered their way to the other end of the balcony,
glitter trailing thickly behind them.
"Perhaps we should rejoin our hosts," suggested Qui-Gon.
"Yes, Master," replied Obi-Wan, falling in step behind his
lover and watching the starlight catch in Qui-Gon's hair.
End.
February 25, 2000
I am no blushing virgin. I haven't been for a very long time.
Obi-Wan and I are not strangers to each other's bodies.
We hold each other.
We kiss.
We touch each other.
We make love.
And yet.
Sometimes when we kiss it is as if we have never done so
before. Everything familiar is given the sparkle of the exotic.
The sweetness of his mouth is like the very best kind of
surprise, his tongue a shy lover.
Sometimes his mouth meets mine and I feel my blood rushing
through my body, gathering at my heart, my stomach and my sex.
Sometimes his lips part and he breathes into me and my pulse
soars -body thrilling to his touch, inside and out.
Sometimes his tongue breaches my mouth and fills me with his
taste; oatmeal and honey, cinnamon and brandy. I could spend
days trying to describe the magical taste of my Obi-Wan, but I
would rather just taste him.
Sometimes his lips gather my bottom lip between them as they
retreat, tugging at it gently as if loath to let me go.
Sometimes I could come from this if I let my control slip; come
just from this beautiful possession. Maybe one day I will.
End.
February 27, 2000
Obi-Wan waited until the sliver of space visible from their
tiny viewport showed the streaking stars of hyperspace before
speaking with his master. He knelt in front of Qui-Gon, keeping
his eyes on the floor.
"I am so sorry, Master."
"I am the senior Jedi on this mission and your master as well.
The blame is mine to bear." Qui-Gon's hand dropped onto his
shoulder, squeezing gently.
"But I enticed you," said Obi-Wan, eyes still downcast. Qui-Gon
didn't answer and the continued silence made him look up.
"I would be a poor master indeed if I let an afternoon's carnal
pleasure come before a mission." Qui-Gon cupped his cheek,
thumb stroking softly against his lips in an absent caress.
"What will they do to us?"
"The Council? I don't see what they can do. We broke no laws of
our own, nor any of the Veshi's. We were on our own time. It
was suggested to us that we enjoy the spring and when we
pointed out that we had no bathing trunks, we were informed
that the pool was completely secluded and our privacy assured.
What is more, her majesty knew we were lovers. I believe the
Council would have been better served sending female
representatives to the matriarchy in the first place. But they
can no more change their choice now than we can take back what
we did." It sounded to Obi-Wan as if his master were readying
his arguments.
"So you don't think the Council will reprimand us?"
"On the contrary, I expect they will not only reprimand us, but
will no doubt make a show of attempting to separate us."
Qui-Gon's hand tightened on his shoulder, calming him when
Obi-Wan would have jumped up.
"But you said..."
"They are a political body, Padawan. They will do whatever is
politic."
"But they are our spiritual leaders, surely that is where their
first loyalty lies."
"Originally, yes, they were. But they have been that in name
only for quite some time now."
"But what of Master Yoda?"
"Individually they are good people with visions and opinions
and ideals, but together, as a body, to be effective, they must
compromise. And to be useful to the Senate they must structure
themselves in the same manner."
Obi-Wan pressed against Qui-Gon's legs, laying his head on his
master's knees. Qui-Gon began to stroke his hair.
"Why do you think I oppose them as much as I do? I follow the
Force, not the Council. There was a time when they also
followed the Force, but I fear that it is no longer so."
"Then who do we trust to lead us, Master?"
"The Force, Padawan. Always trust in the Force and all else
will fall into place," said Qui-Gon, fingers sliding down to
tug gently at the braid that marked Obi-Wan's service.
End.
February 28, 2000
Obi-Wan returned at dusk from his wood and food gathering
duties to find his master folding a pasty mixture within a
square of paper-thin durasteel. Qui-Gon placed the small
package on the edge of the fire, burying it in the coals.
"What are you doing?" Obi-Wan demanded, as he let the wood fall
out of his arms.
"Sh," his master admonished, pointing toward the injured
members of their small group. "They need their sleep."
"I'm sorry," said Obi-Wan quietly, putting the berries and the
skinned corpse of a small woodland creature he'd caught next to
the fire. "But what are you doing?"
"I've made a poultice. It needs to sit on the fire for about 30
minutes." Qui-Gon reached out to pull Obi-Wan into his arms,
dropping a quick, but deep kiss on his mouth. "Which means that
we have some time to spend on each other, to restore our own
energies."
Obi-Wan let himself be led to a large rock near the fire and
sat down next to his master, but he was shaking his head. "I
want to hear more about this poultice."
"Padawan, front line healing is something that every initiate
and apprentice are taught." He took Obi-Wan's hand in his own.
"And I know for a fact that you took the refresher course
shortly before we became lovers."
"Theory and practise are two very different things, Master."
"But you've practised front line healing yourself!"
"Humour me, Master. Tell me, what does making this poultice
consist of?"
Qui-Gon was looking at him as if he had lost his mind. Obi-Wan
considered that perhaps he had if it had taken him this long to
make this connection. His master let go of his hand and began
to enumerate the steps to making a poultice.
"First you must collect the correct ingredients. Most planets
have flora, fauna, or even dirt or minerals that contain
natural, medicinal qualities. This is one of the things we
research before a mission." Qui-Gon stopped, giving Obi-Wan a
pointed look. Obi-Wan just smiled and nodded, indicating that
Qui-Gon should continue.
"You must then measure out the ingredients, mix them together
as best suits the injury and apply to the wound."
"For instance," suggested Obi-Wan, "this particular poultice
needs to be heated."
"It is far more effective that way," agreed Qui-Gon.
"Heated for how long?"
"As I said earlier, about 30 minutes -at any rate until it
becomes almost runny in consistency and then it is applied to
the upper chest to prevent pulmonary complications in fever
patients."
Obi-Wan was shaking his head.
"What?" asked Qui-Gon, drawing himself up and folding his hands
in his lap.
"Do you have success with this 'front line healing', Master?"
"You know that I do."
"Then I only have one more question."
"Yes, Padawan?"
"Why have you been pretending you can't cook?"
End.
February 29, 2000
It's amazing really, all the different noises the rain makes.
It falls all around us, making the world wet, damp, muddy.
Noisy little pings against the giant whusla leaves. A more
open, but slightly softer sound as it hits the many branches in
this forest. The shouting fall of it against the brook to our
left. And the almost not there whomp of it as it hits the dirt
and is absorbed.
It is the only sound in the forest as I lie with my master,
warm and dry -shielded beneath his cloak. My own robe keeps my
back from the wet earth. My master's body is pressed to my own.
Heat and silk of flesh, competing with the cooler, rougher
texture of his clothing against me.
My belt and sash are gone, my tunic pulled open. My leggings
are around my knees. There is a wetness at my belly that has
nothing to do with the rain and everything to do with the solid
weight of my master pressed against me.
He is still almost fully dressed -my fingers less nimble than
his own had not managed to unclasp his belt. Instead I had
pulled apart his stola near the top, where his neck was bared
and together we had released his erection from the confines of
his leggings.
It had been a quick coupling, a mad burst of passion brought to
a peak by the insistent song of the rain, driving us together.
The Living Force flowing through us and twining us into each
other.
I'm a part of the forest now. A single drop of rain falling
against another, joining it, becoming a flood.
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